Stages
by Butcherbird
Summary: Tyki Mikk dies in the summertime. On the battlefield. And so it goes.


**[the five stages of grief.]**

* * *

><p><strong>[prologue.] <strong>"Third apostle Joyd will rejoin us." The Millennium Earl sits. Unreadable. Unmovable. Unshakable. "That is all."

* * *

><p><strong>[1. denial and isolation.] <strong>Devit marches over to where Tyki's situated in a chair by the window. "Oi! Mikk." Jasdero mimics him, planting his hands on his hips. They are boys on a mission.

Tyki turns to them. "Yeah, brat?" He looks like he hasn't slept for days. Later they'll realize that he probably hasn't.

"The _fuck _is wrong with you?"

Devit sounds aggrieved, like someone stole his wallet. "Makin' everyone worry over nothing, acting like it's the end of the goddamn world when everyone knows it's all bullshit." He pauses, struggles for words. "Making everyone _else_ worry. We don't give a flying fuck."

Jasdero, for once, doesn't agree. He's always the more honest one. "...Heee. Worry. Worry."

Tyki takes a deep drag on his cigarette and gives them an unimpressed, vague look. "I'm not acting like anything. You're the ones behaving as if I'm an invalid."

(He can guess well enough what changed to make this happen; one day he mentions to the Earl that he's losing his sense of time every so often, a couple hours here and there, hearing Joyd laugh when the pain gets bad, and the next morning he walks into the parlor. They all stare like he's started bleeding all over the expensive hardwood floor or something.)

"Then we all know nothing's gonna happen," Devit announces in satisfied tone. "You're fine. Don't expect get-well chocolates and cards from us, 'cause you're not gonna need 'em."

"Sure, brat. Sure." He fumbles for another cigarette as they walk away, fingers shaking.

Don't let it happen. Not to this family.

It's October.

* * *

><p><strong>[2. anger.]<strong> Wisely steps into the room without bothering to knock. And sure enough, there's the broken glass.

Tyki's taken to smashing mirrors lately, like he can't stand to see his own reflection being blacked out by the image of a grinning shadow. Joyd is waiting to eat him, he thinks sometimes. He's sitting on the bed, leaned against the wall with his head tilted back, and Wisely notices the other thing he'd suspected. "You're drunk."

He doesn't look up, directing his indignant, exhausted scowl at the bedcovers instead. "_So? _'S not exactly news to me. Now go 'way."

Wisely shrugs, concealing his unease. He takes another step into the room, avoiding the jagged bits of the mirror littering the floor. "The Earl wishes to speak to you about your former target. Allen Walker." He watches as Tyki winces at the name, as if it reminds him of the scars that boy gave him, the scars that give him so much pain that he sometimes can't take it and maybe he's afraid he's actually going to pass out because oh God it hurts so much it hurts-

"Earl can wait a bit... 'm drunk. Like you said." Wisely shakes his head.

"He won't be pleased with you."

Tyki stands with a hiss, dizzy from alcohol and hate. "Yeah, yeah. What's he wanna hear from me...? Third disciple... Joyd here, reporting for duty."

Wisely snaps. "Shut up. You're drunk, so shut up." That's the first sign of giving in. He's losing his own name. Wisely, in turn, is losing his composure. And a little bit of his faith.

_Allen Walker,_ thinks Lulubell when she hears of it. _The Fourteenth._One and the same, two murderers in a single body. It's a sort of cold revenge, knowing that Walker fall into the his Memory just like Tyki will. But it's not enough. She has been betrayed by fate, stabbed in the back by a world she thought was hers for the taking.

She is loyal. Loyal to the core, but loyalty isn't enough to keep her from fighting back the pathetic saltwater that threatens to fall from her eyes.

And it threatens when she realizes that Joyd is not her Tyki, isn't the one she wants to kill with and kiss... and the one she wants tell to stop smoking because it's a terrible habit, tell to stop sleeping in on weekends because the War is getting worse and it's time to work harder.

Allen Walker. Tyki doesn't hate him, but Lulubell wants to tear him apart, because he's the one that made her brother start screaming. The one who tried to take his Noah away, the one who saves demons, the one who hurt Road, the one who tried to come back for an unconscious enemy because he knew there was a little human child somewhere waiting for Tyki. A child wearing the stolen silver buttons of dead Exorcists.

A woman scorned is all she is, and Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. All's fair in love and war, and this is a lot to lose.

* * *

><p><strong>[3. bargaining.<strong>] Cyril sees his brother shudder slightly, sees Tyki sway a little, a hand to his head as he braces himself against the window.

It's warm outside today.

He steps forward and frowns, craning his neck to try and see Tyki's expression. "...You're not having those headaches again, are you?" He tsks and shakes his head.

Tyki turns, straightens, and gives a frown of his own, examining Cyril like he doesn't know who he is. "It's not time yet. Go." That voice, it's Joyd's voice. It's not Tyki. He's gone for the moment, and it's the first time he's completely lost himself, and Cyril recoils. He's ready leave the room, just wait it out, but the moment passes as soon as it came.

The younger falters again, pained, and Cyril goes to him.

"Whatever am I going to do with you?" The scolding tone comes out as hollow, and it dies away when his brother shrugs helplessly with a laugh, hysterical and lost- and then clings to him like he hasn't done since he was ten years old. Ten years old, and starving on the streets.

_"Irmão, eu sinto muito, me desculpe..."_

The older man tousles Tyki's disheveled hair and gives him a last piece of advise, ignoring the feeling in his chest that says he's slipping away from them faster. _"Vá dormir, irmãozinho._It's not going to take you from us so easily."

Maybe if he kills enough, it'll give them more time. Maybe if they lie enough, they'll have him longer. _I'll give you what you want, just give him heaven for me,_ he prays to a God he hates, a God he's trying to destroy with all his heart. A sinner's soul for a sinner; _I'll trade. I'll trade._

Tyki gives another short laugh and steps back, sounding like he might break apart. "You're such a politician, Cyril. Such a good liar."

At least he's been spared a real Exorcism, because he'd have ended his life himself. And then what?

* * *

><p><strong>[4. depression.] <strong>Later, Cyril will go and get Road, and she'll stare at Tyki too, watching him act like he doesn't know what she wants from him.

Until...

He kneels and holds her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, just wanting to know she's there. She lets him, feeling him tremble slightly.

She wants to save him.

They are better than this. But somewhere else, the Twins listen, holding hands. They don't want it to happen to them. They're afraid. They're afraid for each other and themselves and they're afraid for Tyki.

Time is running out.

A silence, and she honestly doesn't think he'll speak. But he does, and it cuts her to the bone.

"I miss you," he chokes.

Desperate and quiet. "Please, I miss you so much."

Her breath catches; her mind flickers between the ways to respond, from _Tyki stop being so silly_ to _I'm right here,_ _don't worry._She settles for just shaking her head and letting her legs give way to sit next to him, pressing her forehead to his. Trying to memorize every detail of him. Feeling the Crown of Thorns etch itself into their skin even deeper.

He looks at her like his heart is breaking. (I don't want to die. I love you. I love you.)

He says it again, just to have something to say. "God, I miss you so much."

* * *

><p><strong>[5. acceptance.]<strong> Tyki Mikk dies in the summertime.

On the battlefield.

Joyd takes what belongs to him, and he does it without grace. In the battle, Tyki falls. Joyd gets up.

The world turns like always.

They'll have to go find those human friends of his later and tell the little boy that Tyki won't be coming back.

And what hurts almost as much as losing him is how Allen Walker looks at them, not in triumph or satisfaction, but in forgiveness. With sorrow. _I couldn't save you.  
><em>  
>They find it hard to take.<p>

But Noah can kill while they're crying.

* * *

><p><strong>[epilogue.]<strong> He wouldn't have handled goodbyes very well anyway.

And so it goes.

* * *

><p><em>"Irmão, eu sinto muito, me desculpe..."<em>  
>"Brother, I'm so sorry, forgive me..."<p>

_"Vá dormir, irmãozinho."_  
>"Go get some sleep, little brother."<p> 


End file.
